


Healing Hands

by whowhatsitwhich



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:03:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/whowhatsitwhich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her pleading tone seemed to cut right through him if the sudden hunched position he took up with anything to go by. “You,” he mumbled, his jaw tight and set. He met her look with a come and go one but his voice firmed when he repeated, “You.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Just playing around with a hopeful headcanon of what could happen when Daryl makes it back to Alexandria following the events of episode 6.

_“In the silence, she felt the past and the present shift and mix, but that was a mirage. There was no way to comfort the lost boy he’d been back then.  But she had the grown male. She had him right in her arms, and for a brief moment of whimsy, she imagined that she was never, ever going to let him go.”―[J.R. Ward](http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/20248.J_R_Ward), [Lover Mine](http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/7370233) _

He frowned at the bloodstains blooming like roses on her pretty white shirt. Dammit. Every fucking time they found something good, some place where they could catch their breath, hell was right on their heels. This time was no different. 

Carol was oblivious to the stains, muttering to herself as she cleaned the dirt and blood from his arm, frowning when she saw how deep the cuts ran. 

“You messed yourself up good this time,” she observed softly as she daubed the cuts with a wet cloth. “These are gonna need stitches.”

He hissed through his teeth as she grazed a particularly tender spot. “Got lucky. If I hadn’t been wearing that jacket, woulda been a lot worse.” 

Carol flicked a glance up, a tiny furrow of worry pulling her brows closer together. “That’s something anyway.” She straightened and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You sure your arm is the only thing that needs attention? We can get Denise to take a look just to be safe. She can stitch you up too.”  His muscles turned to stone beneath her fingers and he gave the barest hit of a head shake. “Daryl, you need to be checked. Let Denise take a look. Or Rosita. Please.”

Her pleading tone seemed to cut right through him if the sudden hunched position he took up with anything to go by. “You,” he mumbled, his jaw tight and set. He met her look with a come and go one but his voice firmed when he repeated, “You.” 

Carol nodded and came around to kneel before him, her fingers shaking as they found their way to the buttons on his shirt. One by one, she slipped them free and then ever so slowly eased the dark shirt down his arms and then dropped it on the floor. She placed her hand on his shoulder again, rubbing small comforting circles as she rounded the bed, bracing herself for what she’d find. Much to her surprise, he didn’t move and didn’t say a word, but his eyes followed her progress as she moved behind him.

She knew about his scars, having seen them a couple of times before but the sight of them now went through her like a gut punch. Angry red and silvery gray told their own sad tale; new bruises and ragged scrapes mottled his side. One deeper than the rest still seeped crimson beads that made meandering trails. 

“How bad is it?” His gravelly voice was raspy with exhaustion and resignation. 

“Not to bad really, all things considered.” She leaned in to get a closer look at the damage. “You’ll be sleeping on your other side for a bit though.”

His quiet chuff of laughter brought a smile to her face. “What do you know about which side I usually sleep on? You been creeping on me or something?” 

“You’re cute when you’re out cold, Dixon.” That playful tone went through him like wildfire. God, he hadn’t heard her sound like that in so long. He’d almost forgotten what it was like. “You snore like a chainsaw and you drool on your pillow but I happen to find that adorable.”  It as her turn to laugh when his face flamed in embarrassment. “Stay here,” she said as she took a step back and let her hands fall to her sides. “I’ll get what I need to get you all patched up and be right back.” 

As she turned to go, he caught her hand to stay her. His blue eyes peered at her from under his fringe as he lifted her fingers to his mouth and dropped the slightest of kisses on her knuckles. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he rasped, holding her limp hand against his cheek. “Was worried when we heard that horn and then the shots. Didn’t know what to think.” 

“Nine lives.” Her lips turned up at the corners as she held his gaze. “We’re gonna be just fine.” She allowed herself a chuckle as her palm met his. “Let’s get you fixed up and then…”

“Then…” he repeated.

“Then we’ll see what it takes to make sure you stay off your back.” 


End file.
